


Sounds Like a Plan

by Wish_Ful_Thinking



Category: Good Omens, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agender, Agender Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic, Aromantic Asexual, Aromantic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual, Bisexual Anathema Device, I guess Crowley is something cisn't but I didn't think about that really, Minor Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Multi, Nonbinary, Other, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Relationships, Slight Arophobia, abroromantic, abroromantic Anathema Device, alloromantic crowley, aromantic asexual aziraphale, fraysexual, fraysexual Newton Pulsifer, nonbinary newton pulsifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wish_Ful_Thinking/pseuds/Wish_Ful_Thinking
Summary: Aziraphale was fully aware of how Crowley felt about him. After 6,000 years, you get to know a person very well — their emotions become obvious, no matter how hard they try to hide it.Well, that, and also Crowley wasn’t exactly subtle. The long meaningful glances, the playful banter, the nickname.Aziraphale as fully aware of how the demon felt about him. He was also painfully aware of how he didn’t feel the same.He loved Crowley, but it wasn’t in the same way. He didn’t feel romantic attraction towards him — or anyone, for that matter.Aziraphale did everything he could to return the feelings, but he just… couldn’t.He loved Crowley, but not in the same way.And he couldn’t shake the guilt he was feeling because of it.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I actually headcanon Crowley as being aroace as well, but this idea popped into my head, and so I just went with it.
> 
> Without further ado, the story will now commence.

Half a year since the apocalypse was avoided, and everything was surprisingly normal — the world was so close to ending, and yet, you’d never know.  
  
But that’s humanity for you.  
  
Aziraphale took a sip of his cocoa as he watched people pass. Even though he loved the book shop dearly, sometimes he needed to get away — take a break, refresh mentally, prepare for more obnoxious customers.  
  
He always was a strong believer in Armageddon and the Ineffable Plan ™, but seeing it successfully stopped… it was probably a good thing neither him nor Crowley were competent at their jobs.  
  
Finishing his cup, Aziraphale started making his way back to his book shop. He passed by couple after couple, getting a shock wave of love every time.  
  
He sighed. It was _that_ time of year again. _Valentine’s Day_. Once upon a time, Aziraphale enjoyed it. But year after year, the holiday became dreadful. He had no problem with people being in love — in fact, he was happy others found enjoyment out of it. It’s just that sometimes it would make him feel unexplainably nauseated; being an empath didn’t help.  
  
Reaching the shop, Aziraphale unlocked the door and walked straight to his office, halting at the entrance. He stared at his desk in growing horror.  
  
In the center of it was a beautiful bouquet of red roses with a note attached.  
  
He slowly made his way to the desk, never taking his eyes off the flowers. He didn’t need to read the note to know who they were from — Aziraphale was aware of how Crowley felt, and had been for quite some time. After 6,000 years, how could he not?  
  
As Aziraphale picked up the note, his heart began to sink. An invitation for dinner at the Ritz — today, of all days!  
  
Pacing around his office, Aziraphale tried thinking the whole situation through, hoping there was any other explanation for the invitation. _Maybe he doesn’t know the meaning behind red roses? He’s not really the poetic type. No… no, he’s a gardener. He would know the meaning behind them. Or, maybe… yes, maybe he didn’t realise what day it was! But… that doesn’t change the roses…_  
  
He plopped into a chair, head in hands. Aziraphale was fully aware of how the demon felt about him. He was also painfully aware of how he didn’t feel the same.  
  
He loved Crowley, but it wasn’t in the same way. He didn’t feel romantic attraction towards him — or anyone, for that matter.  
  
Aziraphale did everything he could to return the feelings, but he just… couldn’t.  
  
He loved Crowley, but not in the same way.  
  
And he couldn’t shake the guilt he was feeling because of it.  
  
He sat like that for a long time, wracking his brain about what to do. Eventually, he got up, and started making his way to Madame Tracy’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: invalidation, arophobia, and amatonormativity

After Armageddon was avoided, Madame Tracy retired and moved to a cottage by the sea with Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell. It was a nice place — quaint and cozy, while still managing to have traces of a 50’s aesthetic.  
  
Madame Tracy placed a cup on the coffee table, and sat down on a couch opposite of Aziraphale; the angel was shaking with his head in hands, completely oblivious to the gesture. Madame Tracy was silent for a while, then softly said, “Dear, why are you here? It’s not like you to show up without warning… excluding our first meeting.” The angel gave a soft chuckle, and Madame Tracy smiled.  
  
Finally, Aziraphale mumbled, “He asked me to dine with him. On Valentine's Day. There were roses and everything.”  
  
Both of them were silent for a moment. It was broken by Madame Tracy.  
  
“Is that all?”  
  
Aziraphale’s head shot up. “Excuse me?”  
  
Madame Tracy giggled. “Mr. Aziraphale, it’s obvious! I’m so glad you two are finally working it out!”  
  
He should have suspected this would happen. Everyone always misunderstood their relationship. Always made assumptions.  
  
For some reason, he thought Madame Tracy would be different.  
  
“No! No, you don’t understand. That’s not it at all. I don’t… I don’t feel the same way.”  
  
Madame Tracy gave a sad smile, not quite convinced. This only added to Aziraphale’s emotional distress.  
  
“I don’t! I don’t, and I never have! Why won’t anyone ever believe me?”  
  
Madame Tracy walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Aziraphale, you love him, don’t you?”  
  
Aziraphale would have moved her hand if he could find a polite way to do so. Instead, he sat very uncomfortably, slowly regretting visiting his friend. “Well, yes, I suppose I do. But not —”  
  
“Then what is there to worry about?” Madame Tracy interrupted. “If you love him, and he loves you, then there’s no problem!”  
  
“You’re not listening,” Aziraphale stood up and started pacing. “Our love is different! It’s not like you and Sergeant Shadwell.” He paused for a moment. “Is he still a Sergeant?” Madame Tracy shrugged. “Well, that’s besides the point. I don’t feel like that with Crowley. I feel… I don’t know what I feel, but it’s not that.” Sighing, he sunk into the couch. “I never felt that. With anyone. I thought it was something just for humans at first, but somewhere along the way, I realised that my colleagues were falling in love. Demons too! And Crowley… but I never felt that. I’ve never fallen in love. I… I don’t think I’m capable of it.”  
  
Madame Tracy sat on the couch next to him, placing her hands on his. “Aziraphale, don’t say that. I’m sure you’re capable. Just because you haven’t yet doesn’t mean you won’t. You… you just need to meet the right person, that’s all.”  
  
Aziraphale looked away from her. “But I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying to feel that towards someone. Anyone! But, I just… can’t.”  
  
Again another silence. Madame Tracy stroked Aziraphale’s hands with her thumb. Finally she said, “Well, you’re going to have to tell him.”  
  
Aziraphale’s heart sank. She was right, of course. He just wished she wasn’t. “I don’t want to hurt him,” he whispered.  
  
“I know, dear. But it’s going to be worse if you don’t.”  
  
Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you. Sorry for imposing on you.”  
  
Smiling, Madame Tracy waved her hand. “Think nothing of it. I hope it works out for you.” Aziraphale got up, and just like that, he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: arophobia and amatonormativity

Aziraphale was pacing around his office yet again. He was thinking about what to say ever since he left Madame Tracy’s cabin, and was certain he had the wording perfect.  
  
Now was finding the courage part.  
  
There was a knock at the front door, startling Aziraphale. He creeped to the door of his office in hopes of seeing who—  
  
It was Crowley.  
  
Aziraphale threw himself flat against the wall in full panic. He spent too long trying to figure out what to say!  
  
There was another knock. _This is it. It’s now or never._ Aziraphale straightened himself, and went to open the door.  
  
Crowley smiled wide at the sight of Aziraphale. He was wearing a black suit with a red button up shirt, and… oh god, was he wearing a tie? A suit. After decades of refusing to wear anything besides his leather jacket, he was wearing a suit. He was wearing a suit, only to get his heart broken.  
  
“Aziraphale!” Crowley said, affection dripping from voice. “You look amazing!” Aziraphale looked down at his outfit. He was wearing the same thing he always did. “Are you ready to go?”  
  
_Now. Now, do it now!_  
  
“Um, Crowley, d-“ _Don’t call him “dear”. He’ll get the wrong idea._ “D-do you… uh… do you want to come inside?”  
  
Confusion spread across Crowley’s face while Aziraphale internally screamed at himself. “But… we have a reservation…?”  
  
Aziraphale fumbled for something to say. “Y-yes. Yes, that’s true. But we can go whenever we want, right? I mean, that’s never stopped us before. There’ll be an empty table if we want it.”  
  
Crowley considered this for a moment, decided the angel was right, and, smiling, entered the book shop.  
  
Aziraphale stood by the door as he watched Crowley flop onto his couch. He should have done this years before. Oh, _why_ did he wait so _long?_  
  
“Angel, is everything alright?”  
  
Aziraphale took a deep breath, and proceeded further into the shop. “Crowley—“  
  
He stopped in his tracks when he saw the other holding a bottle of champagne. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but…” Crowley drifted off as he saw the expression on the angel’s face. “Er… we can wait if you want. No need to rush anything.”  
  
Aziraphale could hardly breath. He knew he needed to tell his friend the truth, but he just… couldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt Crowley, especially when he meant so much to him. But… it was inevitable. He knew it was.  
  
He sat down on the couch next to the demon. “Crowley,” he started again, “there’s… there’s something I need to tell you — something I should have told you. A long, _long_ time ago.”  
  
Crowley turned towards him, consern slowly appearing on his face. “Yes, Angel?”  
  
Aziraphale took a deep breath. _No going back._ “I… I know how you feel about me. I’ve known for quite some time, actually.”  
  
Crowley looked surprised for a second, then quickly turned his head away, probably to hide his scarlet cheeks. “Was it that obvious?”  
  
The angel paused. “Well, I can sense these things. I am an angel, after all.”  
  
There was silence for a moment, then the other began to laugh. “Yeah, I suppose I should have thought about that.” He turned back to Aziraphale with the most tender and loving look.  
  
Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. This might be more difficult than he thought it would be. Why did Crowley have to look at him like that?  
  
“Angel?” Crowley whispered softly, concern washing over him again. Then realsation began to dawn on him. Crowley’s jaw was getting more tense, and the concern was turning to dismay. _Oh, this was a terrible idea! Maybe I can still go back…_  
  
But no. Aziraphale knew he couldn’t. He needed to get through this.  
  
“I am quite flattered. Really, I am. It’s just that—“  
  
Suddenly, Crowley jumped up. “It’s just what, Aziraphale?” he bellowed. Aziraphale stared at him in horror. This was all wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all.  
  
Calming down, Crowley continued, “Aziraphale, I… I love you. From the moment I first laid my eyes on you, I knew.”  
  
The angel was silent, causing the demon’s temper to flair again. “What, are you not going to say anything?”  
  
Aziraphale gasped slightly. “I-I…” He took another deep breath and tried again. “Like I said, I am deeply flattered, but, well, the thing is…” He got up and started pacing. He forgot everything he was planning on saying. This whole thing was a mess.  
  
“The thing is, Crowley… I don’t… I don’t feel the same way.”  
  
For a while, there was only silence, the two beings staring at one another.  
  
Finally, the demon broke it. “You don’t…?” Aziraphale shook his head. “But,” Crowley’s voice broke. “B-but what about the day in the Garden? Or that night in Rome? Or… or what about the actual fucking apocalypse!?! Did those mean nothing to you?”  
  
Each word was like a dagger in the angel’s heart. “Of course they do! They mean so much to me,” he whispered, slowly approaching the other. “You mean so much to me.”  
  
Crowley scoffed. “Do I? You don’t even love me!”  
  
Aziraphale froze in his tracks, lip beginning to quiver. “I… I do love you…” Crowley glared at him. “It’s just… it’s just… different.”  
  
“Different?”  
  
“Not romantic.”  
  
Crowley scowled at the Aziraphale. Then, he started for the door.  
  
“Crowley, wait!” Aziraphale called, going after him.  
  
Crowley whipped around, coming face to face with him. There was another silence, neither sure what to do.  
  
Next thing Aziraphale knew, Crowley grabbed his face and pressed their lips together. He wasn’t sure how to react in this situation. So, Aziraphale let it happen.  
  
When they pulled apart, tears were streaming down the demon’s face.  
  
“You should have said something earlier,” he hissed, and stormed off.  
  
Aziraphale was frozen in shock for a minute. Realising what had happened, he ran after the other. Crowley was already getting into the Bentley, and wouldn’t heed to the angel calling his name.  
  
And he was gone. Feeling completely helpless, Aziraphale watched as his best friend disappeared into the night. He stared at the road long after it was gone, eventually going back inside.  
  
Aziraphale slunk down on the floor right in front of the door, wrapping his arms around his knees. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. His head throbbed from trying to hold back tears. Everything kept replaying in his head, the guilt much stronger than before.  
  
_He has every right to be mad at me. This is all my fault._  
  
And there he sat for about an hour. At last, he got up, and decided to fall asleep on the couch.


	4. Chapter 4

  
Two months went by without a word from Crowley. Aziraphale tried calling him multiple times, but he always went straight to voicemail.  
  
If the guilt wasn’t already bad, losing his best friend was worse.  
  
  
At the beginning, Aziraphale was spending a lot of time with Madame Tracy. He didn’t want to be alone with himself, and knew he could trust her. But his visits became less and less frequent: he could tell she didn’t understand. While she wouldn’t admit it, she was more on Crowley’s side than his.  
  
Not that he blamed her. She was probably right.  
  
So with his best friend not speaking to him, and his next closest friend silently judging him, he was more or less isolated within his own guilt. He still tended to the bookshop, pretending his life wasn’t in shambles, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. _He almost let customers walk away with books on numerous occasions!_  
  
Every time the door opened, Aziraphale looked up, hoping it was Crowley.  
  
It never was.  
  
That doesn’t mean he wasn’t shocked when he saw Newt walk in one day.  
  
The two stared at each other for quite a while. Finally, Newt broke the silence. “Um… hi, Aziraphale… look, I know we haven’t really interacted since… that thing happened… but, well, you see…”  
  
With his increasingly bad mood, the angel was out of patience for the awkward mortal. “Yes, it’s nice to see you too, Newt. Now please, I’m rather busy. I have other customers to attend to.”  
  
Newt looked around the shop. “Yeah… I’m the only one here?” There was silence between the two again.  
  
“Look, Aziraphale, Crowley and Anathema… they’ve been keeping in touch,” Aziraphale’s heart sank. “He told her everything — and I know everything too, by default. Since, y’know, we’re partners.” A look of guilt spread across Newt's face when he saw the angel’s. “I’m really sorry about that. But you see, that’s why I’m here.”  
  
Aziraphale scoffed. “Why, so you can judge me too? So you can tell me I need to feel something I’m not even sure I can feel!?! No, thank you. Now, if you would be so kind—“  
  
“No, that’s not it at all!” Newt interrupted. “We, uh, we wanted to invite you over for tea, actually. To the cabin in Tadfield.”  
  
The angel was taken aback by this. “Why?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Newt shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the ground. “Well, you’re going through a lot, and, well, we thought you could use a break — well, Anathema did. This was her idea.”  
  
Aziraphale softened at the other’s nervousness. _Ugh, is this what I’ve become? Rude, uncaring, suspicion of every act of kindness? Just look at the boy’s face!_ He sighed. “Yes, I see. Thank you…” He wrung his hands, trying to make up his mind. “Yes, I suppose she’s right. I’ll take you up on your offer. And,” he paused for a moment, “I’m… I’m sorry for being so, um… unpleasant just now.”  
  
Newt smiled. “Don’t worry, I get it. So, would Thursday at two o’clock be alright?”  
  
Aziraphale smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mention of aspec discourse
> 
> Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Just started class again, and it's been keeping my busy.
> 
> I'd like to take a moment to than farfallaracine and feral-frayromantic4positivity for helping me out with the fraysexual bit! Y'all were super helpful, and I can't express how much I appreciate it!
> 
> ...That being said, I couldn't find anyone who could help me with the abroromantic bit... so if I got anything wrong, I'm sorry! And if you have anything that can help, I'd super appreciate it!
> 
> Also, I didn't say this in the actual story because I couldn't figure out how to explain it without interrupting the flow, but "asexual" and "aromantic" are umbrella terms as well as stand alone identities. So, asexuality is little to no sexual attraction, and aromanticism is little to no romantic attraction.

  
  
Upon arrival at the train station Lower Tadfield, Aziraphale was greeted by Anathema and Newt, and was swiftly driven to the cabin — not in Dick Turbin, though. In a seemingly random incident, the car’s engine stopped working, to Newt’s dismay and Anathema’s relief.  
  
Newt got out the cups as Anathema filled the tea pot with water. “What kind of tea do you want?” she asked.  
  
“Oh, anything is fine. I’m not picky,” Aziraphale replied, looking around the cabin. Anathema originally wasn’t planning on staying in Tadfield, but Armageddon changed her mind. There was still the vintage furniture, but now had modern ones thrown into the mix (and, by some miracle, the combination didn’t clash). There were photos of family and friends from both her and Newt framed everywhere, and even a few of the couple themselves.  
  
Hanging on the wall were four flags. Aziraphale recognized the bisexual one, but the others were a mystery to him. There was one that was dark blue, light blue, white, and grey; another that was dark green, light green, white, light pink, and dark pink; the last one was yellow, white, purple, and black. “These are beautiful!” He said, walking up to the blue one. “Where did you get them?”  
  
Anathema and Newt gave each other a knowing glance and smiled. “Oh, the internet,” the former replied. “Your tea’s done seeping, by the way.” She handed Aziraphale the cup. “It’s my own blend. It’s a mix that will help raise your serotonin.” Aziraphale took a sip, the combination of herbs washing over him. Even if it was all just a placebo effect, it did leave him with an elevated feeling.  
  
“So,” Anathema said, sitting down. “How much do you know about the queer community?”  
  
“Sorry?” the angel responded, puzzled by the question. What did the queer community have to do with anything?  
  
“The queer community. You were looking at our flags.”  
  
“Oh. Oh, right! What flags are those? I only recognize the bi one.”  
  
“Alright, so not much.”  
  
Aziraphale was insulted by this for some reason, but decided it was best to not say anything. He lived in Soho since 1800! One couldn’t spend that much time in a queer capital and know “not much”!  
  
Newt could sense the offense, and burst out, “She means, like, modern stuff! You know, newly coined labels. Not, like, ones that were around in the 19th century.”  
As much as he hated to admit it, Aziraphale knew that part was true. He had been so busy with Armageddon, he hadn’t been as up to date as he wanted to be concerning the queer community (or anything, really. Stopping the apocalypse takes a lot of time and energy!).  
  
“I’m bisexual,” Anathema started. “But, I’m also a thing called abroromantic.”  
Aziraphale tilted his head to the side. “Abroromantic?”  
  
“It means who I’m romantically attracted to is constantly changing. You see, my romantic attraction and my sexual attraction don’t line up. Sexually, I’m bi. But romantically, it fluxuates, and is really hard to pin down. So I decided the label ‘abroromantic’ fits the best. It’s the pink and green flag out there.” She gestured towards the living room.  
  
“Yeah, and I’m nonbinary and fraysexual,” Newt continued. “Nonbinary means I don’t fully feel like either a man or a woman. And fraysexual means that I’m sexually attracted to strangers, but after a bond is formed, the attraction goes away.”  
  
Aziraphale was silent, trying to take everything he heard in. Humans had an odd sense of sexuality and gender.  
  
Odd, but rather intriguing.  
  
“Alright,” Aziraphale said slowly. “I… I think I understand. But Newt, when your attraction fades, what happens?”  
  
“What happens? Well, I just… don’t feel anything? I mean, I feel attraction to strangers. But not all of them! Just… I don’t know, sometimes there’s just a person that I find really attractive, y’know? But when I get close to them, it just… goes away.”  
  
The angel nodded. “Okay… but, what about…” he trailed off, his eyes falling onto Anathema.  
  
“Oh, well, my romantic orientation doesn’t line up with my sexual orientation… er…” Newt scratched the back of his head. “At least, I don’t think it does? I don’t really know what I am romantically, to be honest.” He looked at his partner, and smiling, took her hand in his. “I just know I love Anathema.” She smiled back and planted a tiny kiss on his hand.  
  
While Aziraphale was happy for the two of them and thought they were a cute couple, the display of affection made him a bit uncomfortable (though he was thankful the pda was light).  
  
“So… you’re just… not attracted to Anathema then?”  
  
“Er… well, not sexually, no,” Newt responded. “You see, I’ve been in other relationships before, but none of them have been sexually active. Anathema was the first. In the beginning I really enjoyed it, but as I’ve gotten to know her better… it just seems out of place.”  
  
“…So you just… _don’t feel anything?_ ”  
  
Newt shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah? When it fades, I don’t feel anything in that sense?”  
  
“Sometimes I don’t feel romantic attraction,” Anathema added. “It changes all the time. Sometimes, I feel like I’m biromantic. Sometimes, I’m only attracted to one gender. Sometimes, I feel aromantic.”  
  
Both Newt and Anathema leaned forward with expecting looks.  
  
Aziraphale leaned back, completely at a loss with their reaction. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  
  
The mortals leaned back, both looking a little disappointed.  
  
“Aziraphale, are you aromantic?” Anathema inquired.  
  
Aziraphale inhaled his tea and viciously started coughing. “A-am I what?”  
  
“Aromantic,” the witch repeated. “Someone who doesn’t experience romantic attraction whatsoever.”  
  
The angel held eye contact with her for a while, setting down his tea.  
  
“Why… why do you think…?”  
  
“Because of what Crowley said. You love him, but not romantically, right?” The angel nodded. “Have you ever felt that for anyone before?”  
  
“Felt what?”  
  
“Love!” Anathema was getting slightly irritated. “Romantic love! Have you ever felt that before?”  
  
Aziraphale searched his memory. He had been alive for a long time, but he wasn’t sure if he ever felt what the witch was describing.  
  
No, he knew he hadn’t. He never had.  
  
“…There’s a word for that?”  
  
Anathema gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, there is.”  
  
“You okay?” Newt asked.  
  
Aziraphale nodded. “Yeah, I… I think I am. It’s just… this is a lot to process.”  
  
“Hey, we get it,” Anathema said soothingly. She reached out her hand towards the angel, but stopped herself. “Is it alright if I touch you?”  
Aziraphale was taken aback. Never, in 6,000 years, has anyone ever asked him if he wanted to be touched. “…I appreciate the offer, really. But… I don’t really like being touched.”  
  
“Alright then,” Anathema retracted her hand. “But we’ve been there. Aspec identities aren’t really well known, and it’s a complete shock to find one that fits you.” The angel looked up at her, confused. “Oh, asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums. Aspec is just a word to talk about both of them at once.”  
  
“Asexuality? Is that like…?”  
  
Newt nodded. “Yeah! It’s the absence of sexual attraction!”  
  
Aziraphale’s head was spinning. After all this time of thinking he was broken, everything was finally making sense.  
  
“So… if I wanted more information on this, where would I look?”  
  
The mortals looked at each other, hoping the other would have the answer.  
  
“Tumblr?” Newt finally suggested.  
  
“No,” Anathema said bluntly. “Not Tumblr. That place is a hellsite.”  
  
“But there’s not really anywhere else to look. Oh! Wait, there’s AVEN! But… hmm, that’s mostly for aseuxality, not aromanticism…”  
  
They both slumped down in defeat. Aziraphale’s gaze shifted from one to the other. “Are there no books on the subject?”  
  
Both of the mortals were quiet. “Um… not that I’m aware of? I mean, maybe there is??? I don’t know there isn’t. It’s just… it’s such a little known subject… there could be, but I’ve never heard of them.” The angel’s heart sank. “That’s not to say there isn’t!” Newt exclaimed, sensing the other’s disappointment. “You’re totally welcome to try finding some! I just had to find out everything through the internet.”  
  
Anathema nodded. “Same here. There’s plenty of stuff on there though. So, you’ll be alright!” Suddenly, her face became rather solemn. “Don’t make a Tumblr account, though.”  
  
Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Why not?”  
  
“Because it’s full of shitty people who like to mock others who are different. People who they don’t deem ‘human’ enough,” she snarled.  
  
Aziraphale looked at Newt, hoping for some understanding.  
  
“There’s this whole, uh…” Newt cleared his throat, “exclusionary movement happening in the queer community. It’s mostly on the internet, especially Tumblr. It doesn’t have any real traction, but… it’s really toxic. So it’s better to stay away from it.”  
  
Aziraphale nodded. He spent a little longer at the cabin, chatting with his two newly found allies, then went back to his bookshop. There was a lot of research he needed to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: arophobia in ace community mention
> 
> Admittedly, this is kinda a filler chapter... well, hope you enjoy anyways!

It took a while, but he did it. After months of research, Aziraphale figured out his identity.

Aromantic, asexual, and agender.

Having these words after so long of thinking he was broken felt so... right. Finally, everything made sense.

He started with Newt's suggestion of AVEN. It had a lot of information on asexuality; after reading a few explanations of it, he decided the label fit. He never remembered finding anyone sexually attractive — sure, he thought some were more aesthetically attractive than others, but that's something completely different.

There were things about aromanticism there too, but most of the old forums were rather, um... bigoted, to put it bluntly. Some things were just outright arophobic, which surprised the angel. Generally speaking, the asexual community was pretty accepting. But then again, one cannot make generalizations about a community based on the acts of the individual.

So, he tried other places. Wikipedia had some helpful articles, but... well, it was Wikipedia. One has to take all information found there with a grain of salt.

Running out of options, Aziraphale begrudgingly turned to Tumblr. He took heed of Anathema's advice about making an account, and avoided the discourse as best as possible. Hearing people's experiences and comparing them to his own made everything click. Of course he never felt romantic attraction! He wasn't broken at all! And knowing romantic repulsion and touch aversion were things helped him feel more at peace. No wonder he felt so sick seeing couples being affectionate!

While researching aromanticism, he came across the term "agender". Angels and demons don't have gender in the same way humans do, and he always considered himself genderless. However, it was nice to have a term to connect to. The beautiful flag was a nice plus.

He also came across the term "queerplatonic relationship". The definition was very vague (which was probably the point), but from all the different explanations he got, Aziraphale came to the conclusion it was a relationship that was neither romantic nor platonic (though not something in between. Many people were very insistent about that). How the relationship looked depended on the people involved: some appeared more like how a typical friendship would look, while others appeared more like a typical romantic relationship. When one is wanting to be in a queerplatonic relationship with another, they are experiencing alterous attraction.

Aziraphale realised this explains the kind of relationship he wanted with Crowley. He wasn't sure what he wanted it to look like yet — that was probably something he would have to figure out with the demon, with the whole complication of one being head over heels in love with the other and one being aromantic, romance repulsed, and touch adverse. But he knew that he wanted the other back in his life again, and wanted to make their situation work.

After thinking everything over for a while, he decided to tell Newt and Anathema. They were overjoyed he figured it out, and helped him tell Madame Tracy.

She was confused — which was very understandable; the absence of something can be very hard to grasp. But she tried her best to understand and accept her friend's identity. She at least understood Aziraphale was much happier with this identification, and didn't try to push anything.

As relieved as he was to be out to the mortals, Aziraphale still couldn't figure out how to come out to Crowley. He wasn't sure if the other would understand. Hell, he wasn't even sure he would want to speak to him again! Even if Crowley didn't want the kind of relationship the angel wanted, Aziraphale wanted him back in his life.

Anathema offered to call the demon and tell him Aziraphale wanted to talk, but the other declined. He didn't want to put the witch in the path of Crowley's rage (though she wasn't worried at all, and kept insisting he was a "softy" — and that he was, but he was still an emotionally unstable demon).

Besides, he knew this was something he would have to do by himself.

He just wished he did it 6,000 years earlier.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! I can't believe we're almost at the end! 
> 
> I just a warning: there might be a bit of a break between this chapter and the last one. Last month of school and stuff, y'know? I know this is, like, the worst place for a tiny hiatus, but I gotta roll with the punches ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Crowley still wasn't picking up the phone. As distressing as it was, Aziraphale expected that. The demon was stubborn, and could go decades without letting up on the cold shoulder treatment.

Aziraphale figured the demon needed space, but he should at least know everything.

So, the angel decided to write the other a letter explaining his gender and orientation, as well as what a queerplatonic relationship is. He was planning on leaving it on Crowley's desk (the demon never locked his doors. Who would try to break into the flat of a demon, anyways?).

He hadn't seen the other in a very long time, and being there opened the wound afresh. Everything was the same as he remembered. Simplistic. Stylish. And the plants were as beautiful as always. He walked towards them, a soft smile spreading across his face. He never showed it, but Crowley loved his plants. The angel remembered Crowley showing him the back room full of sick plants put there to get better. Anathema was correct about him being a softy.

The angel was so lost in thought, he didn't notice anyone walk in. "Aziraphale?" His head shot up. "What are you doing in my flat?"

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a while in complete panic. For some reason, it didn't occur to him that Crowley might show up. Oh, why didn't he think this through more!

"I, um... er, well, you see, I... er..." the angel fumbled. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I know you're mad at me, and I get it. I should have said something sooner, and I have no excuse for that. But... well..." He reached into his pocket and fished out the letter. "I'm sure you don't want to talk to me, but... I've been doing some self discovery, and, well... I felt you ought to know. I was going to leave this here for you to find... though as I say this out loud, I realise that's a total violation of your privacy..." He sighed, hanging his head. It seemed like every time he tried to do the right thing, he made everything worse. He walked over to Crowley, handing him the letter. The other made no attempt to grab it. Aziraphale took his hand and put the letter in it.

They stood like that for a while.

"Well," Aziraphale tried to smile, but failed miserably. "Guess I'll be on my way then." Crowley didn't respond. The angel nodded, and headed towards the door.

"Aziraphale..." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "It... it was nice to see you again."

A soft smile spread across Aziraphale's face. "Likewise," he responded. He could tell the other didn't have anymore to say, so he saw himself out.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, so, apparently if you leave something as a draft, it'll disappear if you've been gone for over a month. Did not know that. Fortunately, I have everything saved in a Google Doc, so it's all good XD
> 
> I know this is weird timing with posting and everything, but I've been putting it off for too long, and I might as well do it now that I remember. If I wait, I'll probably never post it, y'know?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! I'm honoured you've stuck around with me for so long. I really appreciate it!
> 
> Now, without further ado, may I present the final chapter!

Just like before, there was silence. It was only a week, but Aziraphale was hoping Crowley would be willing to talk to him.

He knew that was a long shot, though. He shouldn't have expected Crowley to forgive him so easily.

Aziraphale sighed as he flipped the sign on the bookshop door to "closed". This whole fiasco might have been more emotionally draining than Armageddon. He plopped himself down on the couch.

The bell at the front door rang. _Ugh, what is happening to humans? There's a sign and everything right on the door! Would it kill them to use some common sense?_ "I'm sorry, we're closed," Aziraphale called from the couch. There was silence; the person didn't leave. He sighed, pushing himself up. "Look, I'm sorry this is inconvenient for you, but my business has hours. And right now, it is closed. Now, would you be so kind as to —" He trailed off as his gaze fell onto the person at the door.

It was Crowley.

Apparently a week was all the time he needed.

Aziraphale froze, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. "Cowley?" He whispered. He cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. "Crowley! It's nice to see you again... h-how've you been?"

The demon smiled. Having his eyes covered never hid his emotions: the smile was warm and full of love and understanding. "Hey, Angel," he said, pulling paper out of his pocket. _The letter Aziraphale wrote._

The angel swallowed nervously. Crowley didn't appear angry, but still... what was he going to say?

Seeming to sense the other's fear, Crowley put the letter back in his pocket and continued speaking. "I'm not mad. This actually explains a lot." He ran his hand through his hair and chuckled. "I suppose I should have known. I mean, the way you started talking about romance after the 14th century was a clear sign."

"The way I... I've never outright said I didn't feel it!" Aziraphale protested.

"No, but you were baffled by the concept of it."

"...Still am, if I'm being honest," the angel mumbled.

The two looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing, both relaxing after that.

"...So, you don't care then?"

Crowley cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Don't care? Of course I don't care! You're not in control of this, are you?" Aziraphale glared at him. "I read the bloody letter, I know you can't. It was a rhetorical question, Angel."

The demon walked up to Aziraphale. He looked like he was about to reach for the other's hands, but thought better of it and shoved them in his pockets. "I still love you, Angel. And I want you to be happy."

"I want you to be happy too!" Aziraphale blurted out. "And... and I love you too. But, just, you know, differently."

"Not romantically?"

Aziraphale nodded. "Exactly! I love you, and I still want you in my life."

"As a... what was it? A platonic partner?"

"Queerplatonic," the angel corrected. "But yes." His gaze shifted down to the floor. "That is, if that's what you want."

Crowley was silent for a moment, then smiled. "I'd be honoured."

Aziraphale's head shot up. "What?"

Crowley started laughing. He looked even more beautiful than normal when he was happy. "I said I want to try this queerplatonic thing with you."

The angel's jaw dropped a bit. He didn't think Crowley would go along with it. "Really? You mean it?"

Crowley sighed. "How many times do I have to say it, Angel? I love you, and I want to be with you. And if you want to try to make this work, then I'll give it a shot."

As the words sunk in, the angel began to smile.

He turned away from Crowley.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I just... give me a moment," Aziraphale sniffed.

"Are... are you crying?"

"Um..." Aziraphale whipped his eyes. "Um... yes, I am. They're out of happiness."

Crowley's silent confusion was almost audible. "I thought your kind couldn't cry!"

Slowly, Aziraphale turned around. "What?"

Crowley shrugged. "Well, I've never seen you cry before. And all the other angels are so emotionless and cutthroat, so I just assumed..." He trailed off at the sight of Aziraphale's face. "Okay, so obviously I was wrong."

Aziraphale shook his head and smiled. "I don't like crying, so I don't do it. I'm perfectly capable of crying, though."

The demon nodded. "So... since you hate touch, how should I react when you're like," he gestured at the angel with his hand. "This."

Aziraphale was quiet. "...No one has ever asked me that before. I... I honestly don't know." He thought about it for a minute longer. "Well, just being there for me will be good enough. But don't hug me unless I specifically ask," he added.

Crowley nodded. "We're going to have to talk about how this queerplatonic thing is going to work between us, aren't we?"

Aziraphale laughed again. "Of course we are. How about over dinner at the Ritz?" The demon looked confused. "We didn't actually end up going to dinner that night. So, why not now?"

Crowley smiled. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
